riverviewlogs | So what if you can see the darkest side of me..

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So what if you can see the darkest side of me..

who: Jason Todd
what: October Catch All & Memeshare
when: 9th-22nd
where: All around.
warnings: This post will be full of triggery things as Jason's life has been a horror show. A quick overview, child abuse, drug use/overdose, under-aged smoking, child death, buried alive, and murder, illusions to drowning. Angst, buckets of angst. Anything else will be updated.
Note: Unless otherwise stated or plotted, each person who tags in will get a new memory. Feel free to poke me at

opticon Dreamscape's can and likely will get more than one memory. Some memories will not only have text, but also pictures in which they were pulled from.

A: Mom checked out (Drug use and violence implied)
It looked like a abandoned room. No power, a dirty wooden floor, bare wooden walls and a mattress on the floor surrounded by candles. The most beautiful thing in the room was the woman laid on the mattress. A bandage on her arm. Her red lock's dyed black. He hated when she dyed her hair, but what she does when he's out he can't stop, out of everything she does with her life a bit of dye was the least bad.

"You see, Mom... I hurt someone today. I was getting us food." He spoke to the unconcious woman as he held her hand. She was the full focus of his attention. Guilt laced his voice. "I know you're not hungry much right now, but you need to eat something. Some guy came out of the alley. He tried to take it from me. From you. From us. I just got so angry, I couldn't think. I started hitting him over and over. When I caught my breath I saw blood on my hands. I let him run away... I mean, I think he's fine...but I didn't mean to do that. I didn't want to..." He rambles before tears start streaking his face falling from his eyes.

He knows she's not listening and he feels helpless. Nothing he does is helping her. "I wish you would stop taking that stuff. I wish you could hear me... I miss you." She wasn't going to answer...

[ Image]

B-Meeting the Bat

It was like any night, for Jason anyway, moving quietly through the streets of Crime Alley. People left him alone for the most part. Which in return got him left alone, again for the most part. Taking a turn down one of the desolate alleyways when he saw it. The Batmobile in all of it's glory. Well, why not. He thought as he moved forward with his tire iron. The big bad Bat's car didn't look like it was that protected. So he kneeled and got to work.

Once he had one tire off he heard someone clear their throat. Looking up his eyes went wide. "You do realize thats the Batmobile, right?" The voice spoke Batman was bigger than life. But he didn't run, no he did what he did best. He smarted off.

"Duh, you do realize you parked your car in Crime Alley, right?" Batman moved forward towards him and Jason swung out at him with the tire iron, he really didn't want to go to Gotham Lockup with his old man. The man dressed as a bat caught the Iron like it was nothing

"You wanna beat up on a kid, go enlist in the GCPD like every other bully in this city." He hissed at the man, who was now lifting him like he weighed nothing. That deep voice spoke again.

"I'm only going to ask you this once. So give some serious thought to your answer." Then he smirked, when Jason spat out a quick reply of 'what?'. "Are you hungry?"

---
Now sitting on the hood of the Batmobile Jason was scarffing down a burger and fries. It was like heaven at the moment.

"Slow down, Jason, You're going to lose a finger."
"Sorry" munch munch "This is the closest thing I've had to a home-cooked meal I've had since..." chomp "... I had a home."

He looks up realizing where the hillside their parked at is. "Funny, I was here once. Looking for Wayne Manor. Trying to case the place but I got lost."

The Batman looks his way. "Why do you think its okay to steal from other people?"

"You kidding me? Look at this view. Freaking "billionaire playboy" think's he's king of the world. Pfft." Jason grumbles as he eats.

"Sometimes you have to give people a chance, Jason. They'll usually surprise you." The bat spoke before silence swept over them and both ate quietly.

C: Dig Lazurus Dig (Buried alive, illuisions to drowning, and pain)

Darkness, darkness all around. It was hot and stuffy this much was clear as Jason opened his eyes to the purest blackness. Trying to sit up he knocked his head into wood before realization sank in. "BRUCE!" panic building in his chest, he knew exactly where he was. It was a coffin. "BRUCE!" His hands moved looking for anything, ANYTHING. His belt buckle was all he could find, Forcing himself to calm down. Instinct taking over, if he panicked he would run out of air.

The belt buckle was used to tear the silk and hit the fine wood above. It took what felt like forever his nails long ripped off as he dug himself up, forcing himself to breath slowly. His hand shot up through the dirt, he was lucky Gotham was always so rainy.

He pulled himself up out of the dirt taking deep breaths now, nothing seemed focus anymore. A few steps and down he went....

His eyes opened again, green liquid obscuring his view. For a moment he sees a beautiful woman above the water, her eyes wide... was that fear? What was happening? Then the pain rushed through like fire.

It burned, and yet he felt like he was drowning and couldn't escape. Her and reached down and pulled him up. "Come now." She spoke quickly. He knew her.

"Talia."

"Yes, your story is not yet over, Jason." She spoke in that beautiful middle eastern accent of hers. Next they were running, he had so many questions.

"Whats happening!" He called to her as they reached a cliff-side and she shoved a duffle bag in his hands. "You are unavenged! Do not go back to him, learn before you react." She spoke quickly, dragging him up and kissing him fully on the lips before shoving him off the cliff. Him and the bag falling as she turned and ran the other way. Jason watched the world spin around him....

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This was nice. Very nice. He hadn't been to a performance in some time, for lack of being able to actually see it clearly, and that was one of the downsides to his vision's condition. But he did love the music and he did love the singing and the drama of it. This theater wasn't like ones he remembered though. What was with the large wall? Was that what they called a curtain? It certainly didn't match the rest of the decor.

But then the show began, and he understood what it was for. One of those moving pictures Ciel kept telling him about that they watched on the television sometimes.

"I'm afraid I don't. What is that?"

Edited 2017-10-12 16:40 (UTC)

Jason's drink was ignored in favor of watching him younger panicking, screaming his adopted father's name. The fear threatening to spill up even now. Even in the dream he felt like his stomach was turning. He hated what this memory did to him.

"...A clockwork orange is a book and a movie." He spoke, he didn't have to look to know who was sitting at his side. "A very bad boy is forced to watch videos of ultra-violence to make him less violent. Its torture." He explained. "If I find it I will loan it to you." He spoke as he sat back and ran a hand through his hair. "You shouldn't be seeing this... and yet it seems fitting." god he wished his dream soda was a beer right now.

He leaned forward, chin resting on interlaced fingers to see what he could of the scene in front of him. Something was moving, the man beside him frightened and frantic, but he could hear the sounds of fabric tearing, wood breaking, something scraping against it and then against dirt and he had an idea of what he was meant to see.

"I'll thank you for it. It sounds macabre." On the screen, the ground broke and the sky came into view, a blur of darkness to not quite so dark, and the sounds of rain accompanying it gave evidence of what he thought he was seeing. "Shouldn't be seeing you crawl from your own grave? Perhaps. I've a mind to shake your mortician." He gestured at the screen with a hand, frowning. "Did he not leave you a bell? Ridiculous. That's common practice if one can't be sure the dead are actually dead."

He tried to hide his fear, but he doubted it did much good. He could lie to himself at least even with the panic building in him. He hated confined spaces for this very reason. He was thankful at least he had been small then, he'd never fit in that coffin now.

"I like the macabre, it's more fanciful than true horror." He spoke as he lifted the soda and took a drink just to busy his hands. Again, almost sad that cigarettes wouldn't have the same calming effect in dreams. Stupid logic. "I would give you his name if i knew it, but I can tell you I was dead... very very dead. And we don't use bell's anymore, people are embalmed now, filled with a fluid to preserve the body." He wished he could remember this better, things were a little out of focus here but not like the Undertaker's bad vision, this was the result of repression and frontal lobe damage. Subconscious, Jason rubbed at the side of his head, where blood was leaking in his memory. "I had been dead awhile before this happened. B does a lot of shit wrong, but he wouldn't have let them bury me alive." That much he was certain.

The grin took a turn toward the unhinged. So they had a few of the same interests. He'd keep that in mind for later, wondering if it might help them to solve this little riddle of the dream memories. For now, another interest of his had been presented and he tilted his head toward Jason, regarding him curiously.

"Oh? You've been embalmed, have you? Well you'd have been quite dead for that to have happened, and yet there you are, crawling your way back to the world of the living. Didn't happen to meet anyone you didn't know before this moment, did you? Someone who didn't quite seem of that world? I really must ask."

The tall one usually persented himself as serious or playful, sitting there he looked uncomfortable, almost green around the gills even in his dream. He hated this oh so much. "I would have had to of been. Gotham has serious laws against not doing that stuff. B also wouldn't have taken that chance." he furrowed his brow a bit, trying to remember, did he puke it up? What happened?

He seemed lost in his head a moment before shaking his head some. "No, I was heavily brain damaged." He spoke just in time for the boy staggering from the grave to shuffle into the woods, moving like a zombie. "I remember the blast, the pain... then nothing until the darkness. This is the only thing I remember before the pit." He explained, which, it started to go from there, his eyes opening again in the memory surrounded by the green liquid so close to the color of the eyes of the man beside him, not that Jason had seen those eyes.

"That's very interesting, from the outside." Under his hair, he might have tilted his gaze toward Jason for a moment, then back to the screen to continue watching the memory carry on its path. "You certainly would have been dead, then, and yet from the grave you woke with all of that in your body. I suppose this is the part where they remove it all, but you don't have any memory of that process either. For the best, I'd say. It's not pleasant to put in and it shouldn't be to try and remove it."

"It's the great mystery everyone fights over that knows me. They expect me to know how it happened. I don't, but anytime someone important dies they beat on my door when they can find me." he spoke with a shrug. "I was like this two or three years according to Talia. Everything after this is just flashes. Me asleep in alleyways, getting into fights cause I was to stubborn to just stay dead. Gotham isn't a city for the helpless."

He spoke with a shrug as the memory seemed to shift to him being under the green liquid with the beautiful woman holding him in her arms. He was sure that the Undertaker couldn't see it all that well. "This is what fixed the frontal lobe damage, and made me rabid for awhile."

He hummed, watching the scene with interest, for what he could see. Though it was blurred and hard to make out, he chose to stay where he was rather than move closer to try and see better. "There isn't a place in the world that I know of that is, and that's speaking from my own time."

Mention that Jason had been rabid, well now, that was a thing. "Rabid, you say? In the literal sense or just in behavior alone. Rabies is quite fatal in itself, or at least it was in my time. Wasn't always the disease itself that killed, though. We had bullets and axes for things like that. Less to suffer, less chance of it being spread."

Jason nodded listening before shrugging. "Such is how the world is." It was true, and maybe home sweet hell hole wasn't that bad in Undertakers time.

"Not in a literal sense. I was never foaming." He chuckled some. "Yeah. I read about that, its part of what started the vampire myths if memory serves." He spoke a bit amused. "No, the Pit is known for driving people insane in some ways. With me it just made my bad temper worse. I've had a lot of training since to control it."

Edited 2017-10-24 13:02 (UTC)

He hummed and turned his attention away from the screen, back to the man sitting beside him. Much easier to see than what was going on at the front of the room anyway. "So no disease, then. You're better off for it." He'd seen those corpses as well. "That would give you a bit of a temper, I should say. If it's anything, I wouldn't have guessed about the temper at all. Don't suppose you've had a reason to be mad while you've been here, not that I've seen."

Jason nodded as the memory just rolled on, flashes of what he remembered of that time, hospital and machines, people saying he was lucky but he was unable to move, a long sleep coming. But Jason's eyes were on Undertaker.

"Not really, no, though if you asked my family I'm still mad as a hatter, but I don't see it." He shrugged a bit. "I have a temper I just choose to keep it in check around people I actually like. It takes a lot of meditation to keep myself to a normal human level. I have to brush a lot off." He admitted before shrugging some. "I've had plenty of reasons to be mad, I just refuse to let them win."

Mad as a hatter, was it? That didn't sound like a bad way to be. He giggled softly at the phrasing. "People like to say the same about me. Suppose it's all in the eye of the beholder. I don't see it in myself either, and I don't see angry in you yet, though there's a tension."

He's blind, not stupid. "That's quite an effort, I've understood. Much easier to simply let go and be furious than it is to put all of that away."

Jason chuckled a bit at the giggle. "Never read Alice in Wonderland?" He had to ask before remembering when it was writen. "No, I guess you wouldn't... I'll see if I can't find it and give it to you, I have a feeling you'd love the Mad Hatter." He spoke looking his mysterious friend over. "You mad? Never." Sarcastic in tone, but playful. "I take that as a compliment, I'd rather those I give a damn about not see me at my worst if I'm perfectly honest.

"I will fight it to my last breath."

He tilted his head. "Never heard of it, so I can't say I have, but I'll take your word for it. They've a library here though. I can look it up." And he would, later. Now he was intrigued. The Mad Hatter had a name as interesting as his own. What wasn't to like about that, at least?

He looked briefly back to the screen in front of them, then back to Jason again, uninterested. With luck, their shared dream would keep going for some time. He was enjoying the conversation, and really he wanted to continue this beyond the sleep realm. "And why not? Tends to push people away, those kinds of emotions, but you don't want that. You're not that kind of person."

"Oh, yeah, I didn't think of the library. It's by Lewis Carol." He offered before he looked around, wondering if his mind would kick them both out soon. His night terrors usually made good work out of that. It was just a matter of waiting. He was hopeful, he didn't want his strange new friend to see anything to terrible if he could help it.

"Actually, I am. I push most people away. You, Ciel and a handful of other's are exceptions. I prefer my solitude but, I am still mostly human, and we need people." He explained, before shrugging awkwardly. "I dont want to be a rabid beast, but I am also not the nicest person if that makes sense."

He hummed and nodded again, not concerned too much with what was going on on the screen now that they'd started a different-ish line of conversation. The memory meant something to Jason, but it hadn't held his interest too long. These memories told of a certain point in time in a life, not what happened before or after, and those were as important as anything that he had been seeing. Context could change everything.

"We're more alike than I thought." He grinned, gave it a moment, and gave a light explanation. "Rabid beasts get shot and killed. That's a terrible end, but although I do enjoy my sweets now and then, I'm no saint myself. Comes with the job."

Context changed everything, and Jason liked to keep things lacking certain sides of the context, he didn't like letting people see him at his worst, or his best. He had been made a victim when he was happiest in life and since then he had to close guard everything. Even the contexts.

Jason grinned then and offered a hand out. "Well, I am glad to know another non-saint. It seems we are a lot more alike than it seemed."

That got a soft laugh out of him and he leaned back in his chair at an angle, watching Jason. So far as he had seen, he liked this man. He was an odd sort, and oddity liked company as much as misery did. His own hand extended and he took the one offered.

"Oh, lad, I haven't been a saint in any life, but some of the better men of the world would be called such." His shoulders gave a light shrug. "Not me, of course, but I do wonder about you."

Jason also liked an odd sort of company, it was nice to find someone who might be just as if not more out there than he was. "Oh I l..." his words cut off as he awake in his bed. His alarm had gone off next to his head for work. Yanking him from the dreamscape.

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So what if you can see the darkest side of me..

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